Oh, as soon as I get home I'll develop yesterday's photos... , he thought.
Yuudai Reno had endured a long, grueling day filled with paperwork, politeness, and political backstabbing, but his rhythm remained steady. He was the kind of man who internalized routine like a habit passed down from generation to generation.
Calm, composed and with a discreet pride in his routines.
He worked at a mid-sized law firm in central Tokyo, earning a decent salary.
It was a small office above a larger office. Rents often drop at this time of year, so whenever they get a chance, the real estate hawks jump on it.
Observing Yuudai Reno, we come to the absolute conclusion that he is not the kind of man you would notice in a crowd, with his haphazardly combed brown hair and his modest physique, shaped by a few years in the high school badminton club, but nothing more.
He wears a thirteen-year-old Canon DSLR 2.1 around his neck almost daily, as if it were an extension of himself. It's not a new camera, nor particularly expensive, but it's a faithful one. However, he's truly found solace in photography.
I haven't decided what I'm going to eat yet... Maybe ramen and a frozen frappuccino. But I'm not sure whether to get the spicy ramen or not. I think I'll give it the benefit of the doubt.
It was October 7th, at night.
A cold night.
He was heading home after an exhausting day... It wasn't a particularly important day for his casual life, but rather for his work life! He really has a knack for work!
The streets were deserted, with no soul walking around, no cars, no motorcycles.
It was just Reno and the vast outskirts of Tokyo. Except for one peculiar person.
From that day on, Reno's life would change. Not instantly, but long-term, as this nightly event set Reno on his path to becoming a civil defense agent!
As he passed a dense wall of untrimmed bushes on state property, he turned a corner and saw a female silhouette.
She was leaning against a lamppost, like someone who knew exactly how to occupy the space.
Her hair was silver, swaying gently in the breeze.
Her eyes reflected the light with shades of fuchsia, mixed with a twilight amber that seemed too vivid to be real.
She wore linen tunics with layered scarves that draped her body. They were clearly tailored, but it was impossible to tell if she had sewn the skirts herself or bought them, but they were certainly handmade.
Her clothes looked like an optical illusion, I swear!
When she noticed him, she rose from the post, tilted her head gently to the right, and raised a finger in his direction.
"Good night," she whispered. "...After waiting so long, you finally showed up."
Reno froze. The line was rehearsed, but she wasn't selling anything or holding anything in her hands.
It sounded like she had been there for a long time, but it was too comfortable to wait for such a significant coincidence.
He blinked once and, ignoring the weight of her voice, continued walking.
"Good evening, miss."
"..."
But before he could take the second step, she was already there.
"...!"
She didn't move, she appeared there, in front of him. One moment she was five meters away, the next, right in front of him. She didn't teleport, she simply replaced the air with her presence. She was fast. Fast as the instant between the lighting of a match and the emergence of the flame, too fast for the human eye.
A blade, glowing yellow, emerged like a conjured breath, from below upwards, quickly pierced his belly.
Reno, however, didn't scream. He heard only the sound of fabric tearing, the soft gurgle of flesh yielding, and then heat.
"Oh wha...?"
Heat rose to his ribs, causing him to fall to his knees.
"My job is easier when people look directly at me," she said. "Sorry, I think that must hurt a lot."
Her voice was clear and focused. She crouched before him, examining him. He could smell the washed, aged linen, and the faint scent of pen ink. Reno opened his mouth, but nothing came out. By the time he found the strength to inhale, she was already standing and walking backward. With one fluid movement, she turned, and her silhouette began to recede.
It was only when she disappeared from his sight that he touched the wound.
The blade apparently left two burns, which looked more like cysts, and created small, clear holes in her skin.
He didn't pass out, and that made him proud later. But he bled more than Reno had imagined possible, barely making it home with his sleeve pressed against the leaking hole in his chest. In the days that followed, the wound never completely healed.
Not a week later, not two, not months later, as wounds should work.
Reno also did not seek the police or any legal means, in fact, no security camera recorded the moment, so no one knew about the case.
It was a traumatic event, so Reno bought a car a few weeks later.
One might say that cars are far more dangerous than knives or women, but really, considering the sheer incredulity of the event, I would also avoid walking alone at night. Reno continued living as a middle-class wage earner. He moved a few times, but never achieved his dream of owning a home or getting married.
Nineteen years later, he still hadn't achieved even one of his "great wishes," but a new problem had appeared at his door, literally.
It was raining. And there was so much water falling from the sky...!
The kind that sounded like small stones falling to the ground.
His apartment was small but extremely organized. Things didn't get lost easily, and whenever Reno invited any guests over, he was sure to show off all the organizational tricks he'd developed.
On March 17th, he left early and went to the beach to photograph some landscapes and return home, but the rain caused terrible traffic jams on the streets, so his plans went down the drain.
When he returned, he left his camera to dry on a towel and poured instant coffee into a chipped mug, but as he did so, the doorbell rang.
It was probably the mailman, at least. But what sincere dedication, delivering packages in such a downpour! So he decided to open the door.
It's common to hear from people that you never know who's behind a door unless you somehow look through it (like looking through a peephole) or recognize it by voice, but in reality, that wasn't even a little bit required at the time.
Reno opened the door slowly.
Well, there she was. Her hair was the same impossible color. Her eyes were as complicated as before. Her clothes were looser now, though.
She held a broken white umbrella with the top sticking out and a packet of biscuits.
"Good evening, Yuudai-kun. My name is Platinum Haoru."
She walked in before he had a chance to say anything.
"Wh-!"
What a clever woman she was... I mean, she's still as clever as the first time!
She walked in before he could react. And he said nothing, not because he was surprised by Platina's arrival, but because, deep down, he didn't know what to say to her. He even tried to string something together with his voice, but only managed to construct a few irrelevant syllables.
Time seemed to have left her untouched, or if it had, it had done so cautiously. She took off her shoes, placed them side by side in the hallway, and, without asking permission, walked to the kitchen table and placed the package of cookies on it.
The broken umbrella stood upright against the wall.
Reno just watched her walk down the hallway. He was confused and had many questions, but none worthy of being the first question of the interaction.
She looked out the living room window and stretched her arms upward. Something about her soothed the already calm atmosphere.
Platina Haoru has something about her appearance that seems ethereal. Her actions and her way of carrying herself are not "normal." Even if she tried to be ordinary, she wouldn't be able to. Not because she's inherently "strange," but because she doesn't even know she's being different, or acting unnaturally. Let's just say Platina would have trouble if she had to act "normal."
"You kept the camera," she commented, without looking at him. "Does it still work?"
"..."
Reno stepped back a little, it was impossible not to feel intimidated.
"..."
"You haven't changed."
"...You..."
He sighed. He was too tired to scream, but too alert to simply accept it.
"What do you want?! Why now?!"
He asked in disbelief. That woman registered a mark on his chest and left. "Deal with it," she seemed to intend.
"Because it's almost ready, what I left in you is almost ready."
She said it as if she were talking about a cake baking. As if whatever was going to happen next had already been in the works for a long time.
"Ready for what?" he asked.
She turned, finally facing him. The kitchen light, yellowed and old, formed an awkward halo around her figure.
"It's complicated, but officially speaking, I 'unlocked' your heart."
He didn't understand, but decided not to ask for an explanation.
She opened the package of cookies and ate one in silence, while Reno just watched. Platinum Haoru was there. With cookies, and looking extremely inviting!
"'Unlocked?' That doesn't make any sense."
"You're right," she said, sitting down. "But you will. It's too early for that. First, tell me: how's the wound? Are you taking care of it? I don't expect you to be applying any healing cream or antiseptic ointment, but ideally you're washing it and not exposing it too much to sunlight."
He thought for a moment. "I do wash it, but please tell me. What is this thing?!"
Platina nodded, then glanced at the flickering light bulb in the apartment's living room. "You're rushing things too much, Yuudai-kun."
The sentence hung in the air for too long, and the kettle's whistle stopped on its own. She sat down on the wooden chair, one of two in the kitchen, and pulled out the package of cookies. She ripped open the plastic with her bare hands, removed one, and broke it in half. Half remained on the table, untouched, and the other half she ate slowly.
"You look good," she commented, her mouth full but still slurred. "As much as possible."
She wiped her hands on the leg of her tunic and looked around. Her eyes skimmed over things naturally. Reno considered asking where she'd been, why she hadn't shown up sooner, if she'd done the same to others, but said nothing.
He was listening, and that was more important.
"Did you seek medical help?" she asked, looking at some boxes of medicine on the table.
"Yes... I mean... I visited some offices..."
"...If you had undergone any surgical procedure, you would have died. Let's say the 'wound' is reactive. It protects itself, and you've become a kind of shell. A kind of living containment."
"...And what happens if I don't want to be that?"
"It's not a matter of wanting. There's nothing else we can do, Yuudai-kun."
She spoke without arrogance. Her tone was practical and precise; it was an explanation of basic survival instructions.
Reno leaned against the counter and ran a hand through his hair. It was thinner than he remembered. The mirror in the cabinet above the sink reflected him as tired but whole, which was depressing enough.
"But this is still very strange. What is this, anyway?!"
Platina nodded and got up from her chair. She took two steps to the side to center herself in the room and looked around.
"Yuudai-kun, could this apartment perhaps lend me some paper and a pen?"
"There is some in this drawer, I think," Reno replied.
Platina opened the drawer Reno had indicated, pulling out a white sheet of paper, slightly yellowed with age, and a metal-bodied pen. She sat back down at the table and smoothed the paper with the palm of her hand, making it look like something very important. Reno remained leaning against the counter, arms crossed, watching in silence.
"It's hard to explain directly," she said calmly as she drew.
The first line was the outline of a circle. "This is the human body," she began, rotating the paper slightly to maintain the line. "Within it, all functions occur normally. Digestion, thought, and aging, the common cycle of any living being." She drew small arrows inside the circle, rotating clockwise.
"But at some point in your life, especially moments of sadness, tension, pain, loss…" She drew a vertical line that cut the circle from top to bottom. Then she added small shards extending from the line. "A crack can appear, and that crack creates a flame that begins to burn your heart's flesh."
She drew a small eye in the center of the crack.
"A window to something that is on the other side."
Reno frowned. "Are you telling me this wound you gave me is a window?"
"In parts. I didn't create the window, it was already there, I just opened the curtain. Modestly, I have an easy time identifying these things."
She continued drawing. Now, around the circle, she made thin lines, like roots.
"When something bad happens, there's a chance your heart will heat up and eventually catch fire. It needs a way, a path. That's why it manifests as something we call the 'Soul Spark.'"
Reno looked at the drawings and then at Platina. "This isn't much different from magic."
"It's not. And it's also no different from quantum physics in some ways," she replied matter-of-factly. "The difference is that if you get into a fight now and your heart starts racing, it might get out of control. Because it doesn't recognize you as a stable vessel yet."
She then drew a small human silhouette with a flame inside its chest.
"What if it gets out of control?"
Platinum drew the flame expanding, tearing the contours of the silhouette.
"You explode," she said with absurd serenity. "Or you consume those around you."
"And you're not going to tell me what it is?!"
She looked at Reno seriously, as if pondering before delivering an answer.
"...You managed to stand with a hole in your chest for days. That's not common."
Platina carefully folded the paper and handed it to him. "Keep this. It will be useful later."
Reno took the paper, folded in four, and tucked it into his jacket pocket.
"And now?"
"Now?" She stood up. "Now, you'll live with it and probably have to admit it's part of your life. I saved your life, you could say. No medical degree could do that."
She picked up the broken umbrella, took two steps to the door, and then stopped, without turning around.
"Ah, and Yuudai-kun…"
"Yes!?"
"You'll probably have to see me again soon."